


Pampered Chef

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Flirting, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Season 1, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: In search of a new serial killer on the rise, Will Graham is tasked with infiltrating a Pampered Chef party being hosted by Hannibal Lecter. The former surgeon is as handsome as he is skilled with a budget-friendly apple wedger.





	Pampered Chef

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nephila_clavipes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephila_clavipes/gifts), [Hannibalsimago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibalsimago/gifts).



 

Will waited in Jack Crawford’s office, wishing he were anywhere else. He’d canceled a perfectly boring lecture to hear about whatever new case had come up. Worst of all, Brian Zeller was waiting with him and showing him prank videos on his phone.

“Watch—this guy’s about to get scared by a donkey in his house—wait for it—”

“You just gave away the surprise,” Will said. “There’s no incentive to keep watching now.”

Brian looked taken aback. “Dude, there’s a _donkey!_ ”

Finally, Jack showed up with Alana Bloom in tow. She saw Brian and gave Will an apologetic look.

“I believe a new serial killer is in town,” Jack said as he sat down. “Three suspicious deaths in Roland Park. Many of their organs—heart, kidneys—were taken.”

Brian whistled. “Nice neighborhood.”

“That’s what caught your attention?” Will asked.

Brian blinked at him. “What?”

“I want Will and Brian to pose as husbands,” Jack said. “Get to know the neighbors, feel around to see if anyone seems suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for Beverly Katz to pose as my spouse?” Will asked.

Brian huffed. “Don’t be so heteronormative, Will.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I don’t care that you’re a _man_. I care that I can’t stand you. Everyone will know we’re not really married.”

“Actually,” Alana started, “all the victims so far have been in unhappy marriages.”

Brian batted his lashes at Will in exaggerated fashion. “I can’t wait to be unhappily married to you, dear.”

* * *

Their introduction to Roland Park would come in the form of a Pampered Chef party hosted by Alana’s friend and former mentor who lived in the neighborhood. Hannibal Lecter had been a surgeon, then a psychiatrist, and now sold kitchen gadgets to well-off suburbanites. He was also incredibly handsome. Will was rendered a little awkward by just how handsome he was.

“Pleased to meet you,” Hannibal said. Brian thrust his hand out, but Hannibal was returning Will’s stare intently. Will blinked and glanced away. “Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

Will was about to make some excuse when Alana interrupted to explain their roles for the evening.

“You two are Hannibal’s friends who are thinking about buying the house next door,” Alana said. “That way, nobody will think it’s odd for you to be asking questions, even slightly nosy ones. Hannibal, you just go about whatever you normally do as host, and give Will any background on the guests he needs.”

Hannibal rubbed his hands together. “Exciting to be peeking behind the curtain. I’ve always been curious how the FBI goes about its business when it’s not kicking in doors.”

Will would’ve liked to stick closer to Hannibal, but the guests started arriving. He adjusted his glasses and steeled himself for the socializing that would be required of him.

* * *

Everyone seemed like a potential murderer.

There was Bedelia Du Maurier who seemed to take almost fiendish delight in flattening a Cornish game hen between two polypropylene cutting boards. (A steal at $19 each!) There was Tobias Budge who kept making orchestra references that somehow weirdly sounded like jokes about gutting people. There was an old colleague of Hannibal’s named Abel Gideon who kept asking which Pampered Chef tools could be used to kill his family, and instead of being horrified, everyone laughed!

Perhaps the real mystery, though, was why all these obviously wealthy people came on a regular basis to an obviously even wealthier man’s house to buy microwave popcorn bowls and plastic herb choppers.

“Are these things even any good?” Will wondered aloud as he picked up an apple wedger.

A woman dressed like a flapper laughed. “I haven’t the faintest idea, my dear! I just keep buying them so Hannibal keeps inviting me to his feasts!”

While everyone nibbled on canapes, Hannibal took Will aside. “Anyone seem suspicious yet?”

“Just about everyone,” Will admitted. “Well, not the flapper lady. She just seems eccentric.”

“Mrs. Komeda knows everything about everyone,” Hannibal said. “You should talk to her. She has her teeth into the entire neighborhood. So, are you married in real life?”

Will was taken off guard by the sudden change in topic. “Uh… no. That’s just for the undercover thing.” He glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby. “I would never be married to Brian in real life.”

Hannibal leaned in closer. “Because he’s a man?”

“Because I can’t stand him,” Will whispered back.

Hannibal seemed to think about that for a while, but then before he could respond, Mrs. Komeda came swooping in and took him by the arm.

“Darling, what about the cooking demo you’ve been promising us?” she asked, her tone playfully scolding.

Hannibal nodded towards Will. “If you’ll excuse me, perhaps we could continue this chat later?”

Will nodded with enthusiasm. “Of course!”

Hannibal led everyone into his expansive kitchen and began pulling out pieces from what he swore was the best six-piece, non-stick cookware set money could buy.

“Can you still get a good sear with it?” one of the guests asked. “I have a non-stick pan at home and the meat always comes out gray.”

“The trick is to ensure the pan is thoroughly heated before placing the meat,” Hannibal said. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing lean but well-muscled forearms. “Allow me to demonstrate—Oh, but first! I want to thank everyone for coming to last month’s Pampered Chef party. Thanks to your purchases, I was awarded a new ice cream sandwich maker, which I will be demonstrating later for dessert.”

Polite applause and cheers of congratulations went up among the gathering.

Hannibal bowed graciously. “Now, back to the meat!”

Brian sidled up to Will and leaned in to whisper something. “Alana’s buddy there is our killer.”

Will glared at him. “And here I thought I couldn’t possibly dislike you more. Why would you even say that?”

“Just watch, would you?” Brian said, and nodded toward the kitchen island.

As everyone watched, Hannibal whipped out a santoku knife, a frying pan… and something that sure as hell looked like a human heart.

Will sighed. “Damn it.”

* * *

He waited until everyone had left the party before confronting Hannibal in the kitchen.

“Oh, Will!” Hannibal beamed at him. “I’m glad you stayed. I was hoping we’d get a chance to resume our conversation. Where’s Brian?”

“Outside calling the police,” Will said.

“Does that mean you’ve found your culprit?” Hannibal asked.

Will ignored the question. “You know what’s messed up? I was almost more upset at the idea of Brian being right, than at Alana’s hot friend for being a murderer.”

Hannibal reached for a knife just as Will reached for his gun.

Hannibal held up his hands. “I was just going to wash it—wait. Am I the hot friend in question? You think I’m hot?”

Will scoffed. “You know you’re hot! Don’t act shy and don’t act like you’re not a murderer!”

Behind him, a woman shrieked—not in fear, but in obvious, incandescent rage. “How dare you! _How dare you!_ ”

He glanced back just in time to see Mrs. Komeda leap at him like a well-dressed spider monkey, her face a mask of perfect fury. She tackled him to the ground. Suddenly there was a tomato knife in her hand, its economical blade glinting in the light. Will threw her off.

She rolled away but bounced back into a fighting crouch. Her eyes narrowed into hateful slits. “I will not let you take Hannibal’s feasts away from me! I did away with all the others who tried to get the Home Owner’s Association to shut down his Pampered Chef parties! Too ‘low class’ for the neighborhood, they said. They were jealous of his cooking!”

It was a lot to process. The FBI had thought an unhappy marriage was the link, but perhaps such a thing was just so damned common that all her victims shared that trait.

“Mrs. Komeda, put the tomato knife down,” Hannibal said. “You’re bringing shame to the good name of Pampered Chef.”

She screamed again and lunged towards Will.

Hannibal, in a move as graceful as it was athletic, vaulted over the kitchen island and landed between Mrs. Komeda and Will. He caught her by the hand and flicked the knife out of her grasp. In an instant, he had whipped off his apron and used it to tie her wrists together. Will had never seen anything sexier in his whole damned life.

Just then, Jack Crawford barged into the kitchen, gun at the ready. “Hannibal Lecter, you’re under arr—”

“Jack, it’s not him,” Will said. “It’s the flapper.”

Jack paused without lowering his gun. He looked back and forth between Mrs. Komeda and Hannibal, then at Will. “What in the hell?”

Mrs. Komeda burst into tears. “I-I just wanted… I just wanted h-his c-cooking!” The words were nearly lost in her uncontrollable sobs.

Will watched as Jack replaced the apron with handcuffs and led a still-weeping Mrs. Komeda out to a patrol car. There was still the question of how Hannibal, a former surgeon, wouldn’t have recognized human organs when Mrs. Komeda presented them to him. He might’ve been in on it. He was probably in on it. Will couldn’t delude himself otherwise. He made up his mind to tell Jack about it.

Hannibal came up beside him. “You never answered me, you know. You think I’m hot?”

Will blinked and turned to look up at him. He found bourbon-colored eyes gazing back at him from under a fringe of fight-tousled hair. He smiled against his better judgment. “Yeah,” he said. “I think you’re hot.”

He could always tell Jack later, if he wanted.

 

(end)


End file.
